Cold War
by Idoloni
Summary: [UP FOR ADOPTION] North receives some unexpected visitors and the Guardians learn of their newest member's old friends and do not approve. But they've appeared for more than pleasantries, and Jack is the only one who can help them - well, the only one willing to help. No pairings.
1. Prologue

**Cold War**

**- Prologue -**

.\/\/\/\/.

North smiled, eyes sparkling with glee, as he admired his newest creation. It was small, sleek and sparkling, with long, delicate-looking legs and a spiralling horn jutting from its forehead; a hand-sized icy unicorn, as lifelike as anything. Of course, it was only the prototype, the maquette; the one that would be given out come Christmastime would be twice as large, with many alterations, and certainly not made of such an ephemeral material as ice. Nonetheless, North was _most_ pleased; he was certain that the little girls of the world would simply adore the little equine toy. Carefully, he placed it upon what had come to be called the Design Rack. It wasn't really a rack, more of a shelf, but it was covered with little icy animals and objects, all painstakingly numbered, each number corresponding to one of the hundreds of blueprints neatly ordered on the actual rack. In time, the designs would be collected by one of the many yeti, improved upon and then built in time for the next Christmas.

Then, just as he was picking up his now-cold mug of hot chocolate, there was a knock at the door, one that could only have been made by a heavy-handed yeti. North sighed, and replaced the cup on his rather cluttered desk. Opening the door, he came face-to-face with a grey-furred abominable snowman with a slightly nervous expression; Phil, head of security. The guard grunted something that would be unintelligible to most, but North understood perfectly. "Well, show them in, then. Can't have them freezing, can we?" Phil grumbled something else, and the white-bearded toymaker just answered with, "Why not take them to the stable? I am sure reindeer will not mind." The yeti nodded and turned to leave, but stopped as a thought occurred to him. Once the sentry had voiced his concerns, his boss gave him an uneasy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What else can we do but make them comfy and hope?" Phil gave him a rather worried look before leaving to relay the message concerning the Workshop's uninvited guests. He could only hope that this was the right thing to do.

.\/\/\/\/.

No more than ten minutes later, North arrived to a scene that, if he wasn't so nervous, he would have found most amusing. Three additional armchairs and a rickety wooden rocking chair had been pulled up next to the fire opposing his own. The individual closest to the fire seemed to be looking despairingly at his mug of hot chocolate, but it was hard to tell, the thin figure in the middle was sipping demurely at his beverage and staring into the flames, and the last two were bickering quietly and glaring daggers at each other. North made his way to his own chair, and coughed nervously to get his guests' attention. "Ah, gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

The figure directly opposite him, finally drawing its eyes away from the mug, said, in a voice that seemed to bypass the ears on its way to the brain, WE ARE SEARCHING FOR...AN OLD FRIEND.

North frowned. "You are...who you are. How can you, of all...people, not find them?"

HE HAS NO NEED TO FEAR ME.

"He is one of us, then? Surely he must have a home, a headquarters?"

HE IS A NOMAD. HIS VISITS ARE FLEETING, BUT HIS REACH IS FAR.

"Then why do you think I would know where he is?"

YOU ARE A FRIEND.

"I have many friends. What is he called?"

HE GOES BY MANY NAMES. WINTERSMITH. VETR. OLD MAN WINTER...

North could see where this was going, and he did not like it. Did not like it one_ inch_.

...JACK FROST, said Death.

.\/\/\/\/.

**Disclaimer:** _Not mine, thank goodness. If it were mine, you would all be very depressed people._

**A/N:** _First things first: I am only posting this here because otherwise I'll just forget about it and it'll die all alone deep in the recesses of my computer like so many other fanfics I've started but never got past chapter 1. So please guilt-trip me into continuing this by voicing your approval. Point the second is that all my notes and comments get chucked over at idoloni . tumblr . com - I'll also be posting a (tiny) preview of the next chapter. Lastly, I'm still not entirely sure where I'm going with this. I laugh in the face of story plans. Nonetheless, if I don't update often, it's for either this reason or school._

_Thank you for reading and until next time,_

_Idoloni_


	2. 1 - Empathy

**Cold War**

**- Chapter One: Empathy -**

.\/\/\/\/.

_There's a wild wind blowing  
Down the corner of my street,  
Every night there the headlights are glowing;  
There's a cold war coming,  
On the radio I heard;  
Baby, it's a violent world._

_- Life in Technicolor ii, _Coldplay_ -_

.\/\/\/\/.

_Blackness._

_No, not quite. Not entirely. He is surrounded by points of light, white and shimmering, some relatively close and some so far away that the distance is unimaginable. He knows, though, that to approach one of these pinpricks means death, or rather, extreme discomfort. He cannot die, and sometimes he is even grateful for that._

_But no. Stars are hot. They burn. It is far better to remain out here, in the dark and freezing void. The empty blackness is almost comforting; it assures him that there are no stars nearby, no end to this glorious coldness that is what he is. _

_He happens across a ball of rock and stone, just hanging there serenely in the abyss. He takes pleasure in extending a finger of icy cold and transforming the ugly globe into a beautiful, perfect, sparkling bauble, reflecting the faint light of a thousand distant suns. He smiles._

.\/\/\/\/.

Jack sprung awake with a jerk, eyes flicking open. Another night, another bizarre dream. What _was_ Sandy thinking? He yawned, the impressions of another world, another life, quickly fading away in the light of morning. He blinked dazedly up at the sky: a wintry grey, full of snow-laden clouds jostling for position. Smiling, he stood up on the tree branch he'd spent the night on. Rarely did he ever need sleep, but the...six-and-something months since the defeat of Pitch seemed to be especially exhausting; he'd slept every night, and had had strange dreams. Not nightmares, just...dreams. Odd ones.

But no matter. He was awake now, and that meant he'd need to move. The little village just a few miles west had had more than its fair share of snow overnight, and while the kids would be overjoyed, he really hadn't intended upon such a heavy snowfall here of all places. This sudden desire to sleep come nightfall was playing havoc with his schedule – _yes_, Jack Frost, of all people, had a _schedule_; whatever Bunny said about him not actually having to work was completely untrue. He had a _schedule_ to adhere to in ushering in the winter in both hemispheres. He wasn't necessary for all of it; he just had to remind the clouds how it was done. In late October he'd start bringing snow to the colder parts of the Northern Hemisphere, and come Christmastime everywhere that was supposed to be getting snow that winter had got at least a flurry or some sleet. Then he'd be free to do whatever he wanted until June, when he had to fly south and help the clouds _there _remember what snow was. Forgetful things, were clouds; they reminded him somewhat of those large, amiable, dopey dogs that love you unconditionally and worship the very ground you walk on, but _still_ don't know where their food bowl is despite it having been in the _exact same_ place for _years_, and you have to show them their food _every single ruddy time_...

But it was hardly like the schedule was strict; he was just _that_ far behind. Gaia would really _not_ be pleased; she never was when he or Thallo or Septu or Modron let their seasons run too long or, conversely, didn't start them soon enough. The old dragon was always berating someone for something, but Jack supposed that if she wasn't, then she wouldn't be Gaia.

Jack looked skywards for a moment, took a flying leap off of his branch and was snatched up by the Wind before gravity could even _think_ about taking effect. He laughed as it took him higher, watching the tree he'd spent the night in get smaller and smaller until finally it was lost to his eye among its nigh-identical brethren.

The Wind was somewhat impatient this morning, it seemed; it kept ruffling his hair and tugging at his hoodie. Jack figured it was probably annoyed by his constant sleeping, messing up their busy itinerary. Not that he would know; the winter spirit had never really got to grips with his schedules, and just let the Wind take him where he was needed. Whether the Winds knew instinctively where the seasons were needed or if Gaia told them every year he was unsure; all he knew was that the other seasons were just as clueless as he. He'd asked specifically at one of the Seasons' Meetings many, many years ago and had received only shrugs in answer. He'd tried asking Gaia herself the last time he'd seen her, but either she'd ignored him or simply hadn't heard. Apparently, she did that a lot; Jack wouldn't really know himself since they saw her so rarely, but Septu, eldest of the Seasonal Spirits, had told him so and he was inclined to believe her. For all the spirit of Summer's faults (like, say, her anger management issues, her inability to see how Winter was obviously so much better than Summer, and general grumpiness, to name a few), she was no liar – the Egyptian woman was blunter and more direct than a brick to the face, and probably couldn't tell a fib to save her life.

But regardless of the how, the North Wind – goodness, it was odd referring to his oldest friend as 'the North Wind' instead of the simple 'North' he'd used for centuries, but he'd had to get into that habit if he didn't want to confuse the poor Guardians; they couldn't hear or didn't understand what the Winds said, not that they really _said_ anything, as such, it was more of a _feeling_ or just a general sense of what they _meant_ – but he was going off on tangents again, and he had things to do. Anyway, North – the North Wind – had taken Jack several dozen miles east of his previous position while he'd been lost in thought, and the winter shepherd recognised the area immediately, a wide grin spreading across his face; either No- the North Wind had decided that he ought to visit his believers, or they had business there anyway, but he was back in his territory all the same. He queried the Wind for its reason to be here so early in the season, and its response implied that this visit had not been scheduled and that it was only doing this in the hopes that it might help Jack clear his mind and focus on his job and _heavens above please don't tell Her_.

Jack laughed and assured it that he'd keep his trap shut, praising it for its marvellously insubordinate – not to mention thoughtful – idea. This would be the first time he'd seen any of his believers since the day he'd become a Guardian – well, if you discounted that unexpected run-in with Caleb and Claude on their skiing holiday, oh, that had been so much _fun_, and the twins were surely still crowing about the experience even now – and he'd been _itching_ to see them all again. He wouldn't be able to stay long, but a quick snowball fight would be just fine, surely. Jack was smiling ear to ear again, wider than before, if that were even possible. He had _friends_ now, not just the one, and it was an amazing feeling.

With Jack's extra enthusiasm pushing them along, he and the Wind quickly arrived in Burgess, the winter spirit then darting towards Jamie's house. It turned out, though, that he had no need to go so far, spotting a gathering of children – some of whom he was certain hadn't been there last Easter – in front of the statue that marked the end of Jamie's wild sled ride. Unsurprising, if he stopped to think about it for a moment – the whole town was already dusted with snow, the eager clouds having reached it before him, so it was logical that the kids would be looking for him. Apparently they weren't looking hard enough – though their gazes were turned skyward, they had yet to spot him. Jack grinned mischievously. This would be _fun_.

The spirit of winter quickly lost altitude, dropping to house-height and alighting as gracefully as any bird on some nearby electrical wires which frosted over at his touch. He asked the Wind to check on the gaggle of children, to see if his cover had been blown; it told him no. _Perfect_. Slowly, he crept towards them, moving swiftly from house to house, the Wind giving him a running commentary on what his believers were doing. A smile split his face as he peeked out from behind a chimney pot, as close to them as he was going to get without them noticing him. Unless, of course, they were distracted...

The Wind seemed amused by Jack's suggestion, but went along with it anyway, gusting down an alleyway roughly opposite Jack's hiding place and rattling the rubbish bins. Instantly, every eye was trained on the narrow passage and Jack sprung into action, sailing towards the statue silently enough to make a barn owl proud and coming to rest by its feet.

Suddenly overcome by the need to snigger at the disappointed looks on the children's faces as they realised that it was not Jack Frost who was disturbing the bins and probably just a stray cat, he burst out laughing, causing all dozen or so kids to jump and spin on the spot. The way that their faces lit up at the sight of him made his heart melt – thankfully not literally, because that would be painful and ruin the moment – and at the chorus of "Jack!"s, his ever-present grin was stretched so wide it almost hurt. Then everyone started speaking at once, and the winter shepherd heard only snippets of the questions being asked of him.

"It was snowing-"

"-couldn't find you-"

"-Santa-"

"-thought you weren't-"

"-where were-"

"-really real-"

"-Easter Bun-"

"-happened?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys," exclaimed Jack, holding his hands out placatingly. "Slow down, you're worse than Tooth on a sugar high!"

The children who'd met the Tooth Fairy in person snickered at that thought, and those that hadn't were so hyped up on excitement at meeting one of their idols that they'd take any opportunity to giggle. Having seemingly telepathically elected Jamie as spokesperson, the boy repeated some of the questions his icy friend had been posed.

"We saw that it was snowing for like, the first time this winter, so we all thought you'd be here, but then we couldn't find you and we were getting worried and how come the snow got here before you did?" blurted the small boy, all in one breath.

"Hey, no worries, guys, the clouds were just a bit overeager and I got kinda distracted."

"It's not Pitch again, is it?" asked Monty, suddenly anxious.

"No, no, nothing of the like! Just got lost in thought, is all," smiled Jack. "But anyway, I'm here now, aren't I? Time for a snowball fight, I think, but only a quick one because I can't stick around too long."

"Why's that?" someone asked, disappointed. By the looks of her, she must've been Pippa's little sister.

Jack grinned again. "Well, y'see, I'm not really supposed to be here...Contrary to popular opinion, I _do_ have a schedule to keep – winter _shepherd,_ remember?"

"What'll happen if you don't keep it?" piped another unfamiliar voice. Some relation of the twins', maybe...? Perhaps a cousin, or else why wouldn't he have gone on the same ski trip as Caleb and Claude?

"Gaia'd get mad at me, and probably Modron too – that's Mother Nature and the Spirit of Fall to you guys. Grumps, the lot of 'em. But that's enough about me – I see some new faces, do I not?"

Jamie grinned and started pointing at the unfamiliar kids in turn. "That's Lisa, from school, and that's Alex, he's Lisa's little brother, there's Margie, Pippa's sister, that over there-"

"I'm Mikey! I'm Claude and Caleb's cousin!"

"-is Michael-"

"It's _Mikey_!"

"Okay, _Mikey_, then that's Theresa, but we call her Terri, and she's in Cupcake's class, and there's Cat, she's Pippa's neighbour and she's home-schooled so we don't see her much."

"Wonderful. So. You guys up for a snowball fight?" Judging by the whoops of joy, Jack guessed that the answer to that particular question was 'yes'.

.\/\/\/\/.

Back beyond the Arctic Circle, North was fretting. While he'd known _of_ Jack for nearly two hundred years, he'd only really _known_ the boy for...what was it now? Just under nine months, if he'd counted correctly. Even though Jack was now a Guardian, he was rarely ever around for long – he'd popped in on each of them a few times, but only just long enough for a short conversation, and even then it wasn't always with the Guardians themselves. Instead, the spirit of winter could usually be found chatting to the yetis or setting up pranks with the elves when at the Pole, gossiping with off-duty minifairies, playing chase with the mermaids living around Sandy's island and several times had been found talking at Bunny's egglets. One thing they did know about Jack was that he was always on the move, always going somewhere to do something, unable to sit still for more than ten minutes. They knew little about his movements; only that he tended to frequent the town of Burgess slightly more than he did any other city in the world. They didn't even have a way to contact him, aside from the Aurora, but that was only for the direst of emergencies, the ones that concerned them all, and the Russian didn't want to get the others worked up over what could be nothing.

North sighed. It seemed that despite his wishes not to bother anyone, he'd have to enlist Bunny to find the flighty spirit; Tooth and Sandy were busy trying to regain their believers as they had been since Easter, and Christmas was just over a month away, so he really didn't have time for what could end up as a wild goose chase. Not to mention that Bunny's mode of transportation would be far more practical than the Sleigh in this situation – far less noticeable and, dare he even think it, probably quicker too. The only real problem with the arrangement was that Bunny would like as not be rather unhappy with this mission – the Pooka really did not appreciate the cold, and Jack would hardly be visiting the Bahamas, not to mention the two spirits' rivalry. Oh, it was hardly true hostility, but they fought and bickered like anything, and one of them was bound to end up with a bruised ego.

But...what else could he do, with..._them_ under his roof, demanding to see Jack, talking as if they were old friends? Just being _near_ them unsettled the big Russian, and he couldn't imagine what they wanted with the Guardians' newest member – nothing good, surely.

Whatever the case, though, Jack needed to be found and Bunny was the only one able to retrieve him.

.\/\/\/\/.

Bunny grumbled as he felt the cold breeze ruffling his fur and the crunch of snow under his paws. Every now and then, a snowflake would land and subsequently melt on his head. Jack had certainly been here recently, but whether he was still around or not the Pooka was uncertain. He'd emerged from his tunnels next to what had come to be called Jack's Lake and, seeing nobody around, had grudgingly started heading towards town. He wasn't pleased with going into such a populated area in broad daylight where any child could see him, but they really needed to find Jack as soon as possible and Burgess was his most likely location. It was a school day, too, if he remembered rightly, and judging by the amount of snow underfoot and making allowances for limited coverage due to the canopy of branches and dead leaves and the time of day, there likely wasn't enough to cause one of Jack's famed snow days. Hopefully, there wouldn't be many kids about and he'd be able to just get in, do a quick search and get out again, possibly with the winter spirit in tow.

Or, y'know, _not_, as the case may be.

Bunny had reached the outskirts of town and already he could see a few older children walking down the pavement or exiting the local sweet shop. Either the schools were overly paranoid about the snow or something else was going on here, and he was inclined to think the latter. He could practically _smell_ the tension in the air, a faint miasma of anxiety and worry hanging over the town; the children – and the adults, for that matter – seemed subdued and almost wary. It wasn't Pitch, that he was certain of; for one, he would still be far too weak for something this elaborate, and this wasn't his style either. That wasn't very reassuring, though, because if it wasn't Pitch causing trouble, then who else? Who else had the power to distress a whole town?

Suddenly apprehensive, Bunny crept through the town, sticking to back alleys as much as possible. At one point, he heard the faintest echo of children's laughter – surely, if Jack were here, he'd be playing with the local kids, his first and only believers. Bunny steeled himself. It was an unwritten rule among spirits that one never interacted directly with, for lack of a better word, mortals (he'd always _hated_ that term – it made them sound inferior, insignificant, and they _weren't_), treating them only to the occasional glimpse; last Easter it had been necessary to show themselves, but none of them – save Jack Frost – had been particularly happy about it. They'd have to have a talk with the winter spirit soon, but for now it was acceptable; these were his first ever believers after three hundred years of existence; they'd let him have his fun while it lasted.

Slowly, the Easter Bunny made his way towards the sound of laughter, growing more certain with every step that the winter shepherd was present. Peeking out from behind a toppled bin, he located his target: exactly where Bunny had thought he'd be, in the midst of a snowball fight with the children who'd helped the Guardians defeat Pitch. Now, how to go about this? He _could_ just step into the warzone and demand immunity so he could talk to Jack, but somehow he didn't think that would work very well, not to mention that it would make all his sneaking up until now seem pointless. So, something more subtle. Knocking over a bin? No, Jack would surely be too engrossed in his mock-battle to notice. Whistle? No, same problem, and even if the boy _did_ hear, he'd ignore it, assuming it was directed at someone else.

Momentarily stumped, Bunny sat himself down on the cold stone ground and looked around for inspiration. The headline of a discarded newspaper captured his attention – he grabbed it and brought it closer for inspection. As he read the article, his ears flattened against the back of his neck and suddenly the almost-tangible tension in the air was explained. "Oh, _bugger_," he whispered. This was news bad enough to worry anyone, whatever optimistic spin the media tried to put on it. If escorting Jack to the Pole hadn't been imperative before, it certainly was now.

Newspaper still clutched in one paw – North would want to see this, the other Guardians too – Bunny searched his surroundings for ideas. Revealing himself was unadvisable, even in these apparently troubled times. But what else could he do? The Pooka looked up, up at the sky and the moving clouds, and inspiration struck. Moving clouds – moving because the _wind_ was pushing them. And hadn't he caught Jack talking to himself all those times, only for him to say that he'd been conversing with the wind? A small, smug smile drifted across his lips – he knew _exactly_ what to do. Maybe he didn't understand the language of the wind, but he was pretty sure that the wind understood his.

.\/\/\/\/.

Jack was in seventh heaven. His ears were filled with the laughter of children, children that could _see_ him, who knew he existed. It was one thing starting snowball fights when you were invisible to the world, where all you had to worry about was the rare rogue snowball and sometimes a sudden tree, quite another to join in one where the participants were actively aiming at him. It was great fun, and by this point everyone was laughing so hard that only one snowball out of ten hit anything other than the ground. This was what he'd always dreamed of, what he lived for, what he'd _died_ for: just that sheer, unadulterated joy.

But all good things must come to an end, and N- the North Wind was getting restless. To linger here was to risk Mother Nature's ire, and neither frost spirit nor air current wished to experience _that_.

But...just five more minutes wouldn't hurt, right?

Jack grinned devilishly, but the Wind was having none of it; it dropped him to the floor, letting him stumble at the sudden loss of support, as if to say, _well, have it your way; rather you than me_. Jack knew that it didn't mean it, and kept grinning. That was, until he was smacked in the face by one of the best-aimed snowballs of the day. A cheer went up at his squawk of surprise, one that soon turned into squeals of laughter as the winter spirit exacted his revenge. Despite now being ground-bound, he was still quick on his feet and his throws were uncannily accurate, much to the surprise of his diminutive playmates – up until now, he'd been going easy on them. You didn't live through three hundred years of winter and _not_ get good at this sort of thing.

Just as he was about to unleash a barrage of snowballs upon the Bennett siblings' fort – well, it wasn't really much of a fort; there was far too little snow for one of those, so instead they were hiding behind Jamie's sled – he felt the Wind curl itself around him and lift him skywards, causing him to abandon his armful of snowballs and letting them fall to the ground and shatter. At first, he just smiled, believing that it had caved and wanted to join in the fun again, but his face quickly fell as it whispered to him a message of urgency. A flicker of indecision passed over his face but was swiftly replaced by his typical grin, albeit one that didn't reach his eyes. Gently, the Wind set him down on the snowy ground, and he held out his hands in the universal signal for _stop_. Once the kids had ceased their attack and had either stopped giggling or at least managed to tone it down a little, he made his announcement.

"Sorry guys, I've gotta go-" and before he could even say why, he was drowned out by a chorus of _'Aww!'_s.

"But _whhyyy_?" moaned little Alex from where he was perched on his big sister's shoulders.

"Ohh, is Gee- Guy- _Mother Nature_ gonna be mad at you? Is that why you're going?" piped Mikey, suddenly quite perceptive.

"Well, yes and no, I guess," replied Jack. He took a deep breath. "Gaia will be mad anyway, but this is Guardian business – the Wind just gave me a message from the others, and it's...it's nothing for you guys to worry about, 'kay? Just...be careful, and stay close to home as much as you can. Listen to your parents, too – I know, I know, why is _Jack Frost,_ of all people, telling you to do as you're told? Just...be careful. Stay safe. I'll be back as soon as I can, but I don't know when that'll be – I'll see you when I see you, I guess. Be good, yeah?"

Glances were exchanged between the older children – they knew something was up, and it was bad. If Jack Frost, king of mischief, was telling them to 'be good', then something in the world had gone fundamentally wrong. The younger kids were a little confused, but took his words at face value.

With one last smile – forced, but from a distance, it was difficult to tell – he pushed off from the ground, letting the Wind wrap him in its cool embrace and take him where he was needed. Much to his surprise, it set him down on the shore of his lake where he was accosted by an irate Australian rabbit.

"Where the hell've you been, mate? I've been waiting here ten minutes already! Not one for punctuality, huh?"

Jack scowled. "Oh, cut it out, Kangaroo, what's all this about...about war?"

"That was just to get your attentio-"

"_What?_ So you made me worry those kids for noth-"

"Not _nothing_, mate, definitely not, but that's not the original reason I'm here. North sent me to find ya – he's got some unexpected visitors, and they're looking for _you_. And not just any unexpected visitors, neither – these guys are _nasty."_

Jack just raised an eyebrow. "What, Pitch-nasty?"

"Nah, mate, believe it or not, there's worse things on this planet than Pitch. Surely you've heard of 'em, globetrotter that you are?"

"Sorry, don't know who you're talking about. I've come across a lot of 'nasties'."

"Oh, not nasties like these. These guys're the _ultimate_ nasties. Can't get any nastier'n them."

"Look, can't you just tell me their names? Guessing isn't very fun when there's literally thousands of possibilities." He paused. "Wait, is this like you saying 'You-Know-Who' instead of Voldemort or something? 'Cause that's pathetic, Kangaroo."

Bunny rolled his eyes. "Still not a kangaroo, mate, but as for your other point, you're not actually that far off the mark. Saying their names – and thinking of _them_ and not what they represent – that'd get their attention, and we don't want that, trust me," said the Pooka sagely. Struck with an idea, he continued, "Guess I could give you a hint, though. One rides a white horse, the second a red, the third a black and the last is pale."

Recognition bloomed in Jack's eyes. "Oh, the Hors-?"

"_Shut up_, you galah, didn't I _just _tell you why we don't say their names?" Bunny snapped. "_Yes_, them, and they're looking for you, mate. What've you gone and done now?"

"They're looking for me? Huh. How about that," said Jack, somewhat nonplussed. Nobody had ever looked for him specifically for over three hundred years, until last Easter. And now suddenly everyone wanted his attention. It was utterly bizarre, but not unwelcome.

Bunny frowned. "You _sure_ you understand who's after ya?"

"'Course I do, Cottontail, what makes you think I don't?"

"You just seem to be taking this awfully well, is all. Anyone else'd be panicking by now."

"What, even you, the Big Bad Easter Bunny?" snickered the winter spirit.

"This ain't no laughing matter, Frostbite, this is serious. No more joking around. They're after you, and we don't know why. You done anything recently that might have annoyed one of 'em?"

"Not that I know of. Listen, why d'you think they're after me anyhow? Far's I know, I can't get ill, I can't starve and I can't die, and I've never even met the other one."

"'Never even...'? Are you telling me you've met 'em before?" asked Bunny incredulously.

Jack frowned. "Well, yeah, loads of times. Haven't you? You've been around longer than me, after all."

"No. No, I haven't," said the Pooka, voice suddenly quiet. "No-one meets..._them_. Certainly not as often as you're telling me you have. Just...they're not really the kind of spirits you cross paths with. You don't just...bump into 'em. You might hear tales about how close someone got to meeting one 'em, but that's practically always an exaggeration. You hear that one of _them_'s in the area, you leave sharpish, if you've any sense at all." Bunny paused, but before Jack could get a word in edgeways, continued, "You don't need belief to exist, right, mate? Maybe it's something to do with that. You ever asked the other seasonals if they've ever met 'em?"

"Look, it's not really a topic that gets discussed often, but I've heard them mentioned, so yeah, I guess. But list-"

"You ever spoken to any of the elementals about 'em? Or, come to think of it, any other spirit at all, 'cept for us who have specific days to ourselves?"

"Well, no, not really, and even if I had spoken to them, the Ho- _they_ wouldn't be my chosen topic of conversation. I guess if you count the Winds, you could say that I've talked about them, but the Winds are, like, _ancient_, not to mention everywhere at the same time, so it'd be amazing if they _hadn't _met them. But anywa-"

"I don't speak much to them as don't have their own holidays, to be honest, but them's that I have talked to, like Spring and the dryads, they've always said that they've met..._them_ before a time or two, but I never really believed 'em. Figured they were just telling me tall tales, like St. Pat and the Groundhog do. Never for one moment thought they might be telling me the truth, but if you ain't lying ta me, and I don't think you are, then I s'pose they prob'ly weren't telling me porki-"

"Bunny, would you just _shut up a sec and let me talk_?" Jack cried, frustrated at having been interrupted not in the middle of something important but before he could even start, twice. The Pooka shut up and let him talk. Jack opened his mouth, but stopped before a single word could escape. How could he put this, so as not to alienate one of his only friends in the world? (Yes, he counted Bunny as friend; he'd never say it aloud, but it was true.)

He was no stranger to Death. Winter was far from the kindest of seasons, and while he did not wish to cause suffering, he'd come to accept that he could not go against his nature; ice and snow and all that they entailed defined him: they were what he _wa__s_. So while he had never really appreciated Death's presence, he never did anything to stop It; It was only doing what It was made to do, just like him, just like any other spirit. He couldn't begrudge someone their very existence, even if that existence meant the suffering of others, for he too caused anguish and adversity, and it was not something he could help.

Pestilence he'd met many times, but not in a long, long while. He'd heard whispers of retirement and replacement, but he'd never so much as glanced upon this alleged substitute; Pollution, he'd heard It called. He hadn't believed the rumours, though - the cold he brought wherever he went had always paved the way for disease and sickness; perhaps not so much these days, and never as serious as it once had been, but It was there. It was always there. He hardly mourned Its physical absence, but company was company; when no other spirit would come close, whether out of fear or disdain, one learned to make what conversation one could. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and Jack had no other options.

Famine, too, was a familiar face, but one he'd been seeing less and less. It tended to hang around the more equatorial countries now, those that never saw snow save on the very tallest of mountains and Jack had never liked to visit in person. Back in the olden days, he'd wrought merry hell with the farmers; he'd still been new, not long risen from his icy pond, and, as any teenager, he'd been impulsive and unpredictable. He hadn't gotten used to being invisible, either, and frequently caused massive blizzards out of anger or despair. These erratic snowfalls and cold snaps had regularly wiped out whole fields of crops, plunging many a town or village into starvation. In the last century or so, things had gotten better for most; while his cold still brought Death to plants, extreme hunger was rarely a problem anymore, at least for the Northern countries he visited the most. Those starving people whose crops died of dehydration were Septu's responsibility.

War, though, he had only ever seen from a distance, and only once or twice at that. Jack was no fan of violence and never stuck around for a skirmish. Mostly, he didn't know which side he should help; didn't want to know. To him, they were all equally as awful. Out of the four horsemen, War was the one he disliked most. Famine, Pestilence and Death were natural things, and while they were hardly welcomed with open arms, Their presence was normal. They couldn't be stopped, for there would never be enough food, never enough medicine, and as for Death...Well. Death and taxes, the only two certainties in life. War, though...War was a purely human concept. No other living thing _war__red_, they just wanted to survive. Animals killed to eat, or they fought to the death over the territory that provided their food. They'd never just decided to wipe out another group of their own species just because someone with a higher rank told them to. No, he did not like War.

All this he wanted to say, to make Bunny understand. The Horsemen weren't _bad_, in and of themselves, not really_,_ they were just doing their jobs, like any other spirit. It just so happened that their jobs were not nice ones like bringing chocolate eggs to children or giving them good dreams, and it wasn't _their_ fault. Jack could empathise with them; in all his years, he'd never been thought of as more than a bloody pest by any other spirit, except the Horsemen. Their faces were hard to read, but he was pretty sure that they didn't mind his presence. Sometimes they imparted to him words of wisdom – or at least words that seemed wise, like, _It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness_ – and they'd never once tried to hurt him, physically or emotionally, unlike nearly every other spirit he'd ever come across.

He wanted Bunny – and, by extension, the other Guardians – to see just how similar the Horsemen and the Winter Shepherd really were, how when they vilified their opposite number, they vilified him, too.

But he said nothing, because how could they ever truly understand?

"Oh, never mind, Kangaroo," he said at last. "Let's just get to the Pole. See what they want."

.\/\/\/\/.

**A/N:** _Hello again. First off, I'm going to apologise to any Australian readers - I've never actually met an Australian and I'm terrible with accents. Please feel free to yell at me._  
_Secondly, I'm going to apologise for the quality of this chapter - I found out halfway through the scene in Burgess that I am terrible at writing children, and I'm just glad that they won't be showing up again for a while. If I could scrap that part, I would, but I hate rewriting more than anything. Except spiders. And then Jack and Bunny's conversation just kept going on and on, and egads, Jack, stop being so happy, I've run out of synonyms for 'to grin'. **In relation to this point, I feel that I am in dire need of a beta - someone who can tell me frankly that what I just wrote is incomprehensible and maybe ideas on how to make it better. Problem is I'm too scared to just PM someone, so would any readers like to volunteer?** _  
_Thirdly, I'm going to apologise for the long wait, and the long wait to come. I still have mostly no idea what I'm doing - I'm only posting this because whatever plot I come up with won't properly start until the next chapter - so figuring that out might take a while. Then factor in school, random surprise daytrips and this other RotG fanfic I want to write, and you're looking at a long wait until the next chapter. More info on that over on my tumblr that I still have no idea how to use at idoloni . tumblr . com._  
_Fourthly, I'm going to start hyperventilating over the response I received from that measly little prologue of mine - I was absolutely blown away. And to Starr and LightMyBulb - I hope this satisfies your need for a longer chapter :P_  
_Fifthly, I made cover art! I'm terribly proud of it, too, although it doesn't look so good at full-size - if you really must see, it's on my dA, to which there is a link in my profile._  
_Sixthly, this is getting mighty long, so the rest of my comments will be shoved onto my tumblr, including all the notes I made on what spirits are around and such._

_Thank you for reading and until next time,_  
_Idoloni_

_P.S. If you have any questions, please ask them; I'll do my best to answer :)_


	3. Up For Adoption, Sorry Guys

You knew this was coming. Even if you don't follow my Tumblr, you knew in your heart of hearts that this wasn't going to be continued. I'm really sorry, but it just wasn't working and I wasn't enjoying writing it, and I'm not going to force myself to do something I don't want to do. It really doesn't help that I have maybe half a dozen other things I really want to write, all of them much better than this in my personal opinion.

That's not to say I never liked this idea. Because I did. I just never figured out a proper plot, and though I kept trying I also kept failing, and that's disheartening. So I've given up. There's other things I want to do.

But that doesn't mean the story can't be continued by someone other than me, so I'm putting it up for adoption. If you do decide to adopt, you can have the cover image too - I spent so long on it, I don't want it to go to waste and it's not like I'd use it for anything else; I can also PM you a short summary of my original plans for the story if you want to know where I was going with this. All I ask is that you credit me for the art and the original idea and give me the link when you post it - I'd love to see what you can do with this! I'll keep you posted via my Tumblr (idoloni . tumblr . com) and I'll also update this if/when this is adopted.

So. Sorry again. I know I said I wouldn't abandon this, but...well. Things happen. Circumstances change. Goddamn muses decide they want something else. Y'know. But I tell you what: I appreciate all of you still hanging on so much you would not believe. Just the sheer attention CW has been getting is amazing, and I can only hope that you wonderful people forgive me for what I've done.

I'm sorry.

Idoloni


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